Chapter 29

MACKENZIE

I 'm still processing the words in that letter. I have a feeling I'll be processing them for the rest of my life. And I know that Dylan was right when he said that none of this has ever really been about me. My mother had an illness that had been outside of my control. For her, leaving was the only way out.

I was the collateral damage and I guess in a lot of ways, my father was too. My mother's depression set off a chain of unfortunate events. Her leaving, my dad's drinking, my feelings of worthlessness. The what ifs are sure to haunt me forever.

What if somebody had recognised the signs? What if somebody had been brave enough to help her through it, instead of watching it play out from afar? What if she'd come to find me later in life? What if I'd tried harder to find her instead of thinking she didn't want anything to do with me?

God, I'd been angry when I'd finished reading that letter, but now I'm just sad. Sad for what could have been, and sad for all that was lost.

I haven't taken my eyes off the window, a blur of green trees and grey skies rushing past as we head back toward Cliff Haven.

Along with the rest of the emotions I've conjured up today, there's an immense pressure in my chest caused by the guilt I'm feeling for what I said to Dylan back at the aquarium. He didn't deserve the way I'd lashed out.

I swivel my head in his direction. His sights are steady on the road ahead. He's given me silence the entire journey home. Not because he doesn't want to talk to me, but because he knows it's what I need. He always seems to know what I need.

"I'm sorry for what I said. About the car and credit cards and parties. I didn't mean that."

He turns to me, giving me a lopsided smile. "It's okay. You didn't say anything that wasn't true," he replies with a shrug. "Truth is, I've been given opportunities that most people would kill for."

"But they aren't the opportunities you want."

"Grass is always greener, right?" He laughs. "You probably think I'm crazy."

"To give up your fortune in search of a bigger purpose?" I shift in my seat, repositioning myself to face him. "I think you're brave."

"Brave?" His eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah. Working for your father would be taking the easy way out, and let's face it, it's what most people in your position would do. But you're different. You don't want easy."

The irony isn't lost on me that he could be hanging out with literally anyone else right now, but he's chosen arguably the most difficult woman on the planet to spend his time with today.

He glances over at me, his whiskey eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. "You're the only person that's ever said that to me."

"Well, I mean, you're also a little crazy too," I blurt.

He chuckles as he steers the car down the driveway of the quaint riverside cottage I call home. He pulls up the handbrake noisily and when he turns to me, his easy-going demeanour leaves him, replaced by one of concern.

"I know this is a dumb question," he begins, his eyes on mine. "But are you okay?"

"No." I sigh.

He nods, offering a melancholy smile. "It would be weird if you were."

The car door handle puts up a fight as I try to open it. "I think it's really stuck this time."

"Hang on. I'll get it." He steps out, rounding the car to the passenger side and after some fumbling and jiggling, he gets it open. "Sorry. I think it's getting worse."

"Thanks," I say as he follows me up the front steps, the soft pitter patter of raindrops sounding on the tin roof above us when we reach the porch. "And thank you for today. For everything. For a while there you kinda got me out of my head."

"Any time," he says. "Kristen and Henley aren't home, I take it."

"No. They won't be back until dinner time, but that's when I leave for my shift at the tavern." I turn the key in the front door lock, then push it wide open. When I glance back, Dylan hovers near the porch swing, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. I've been so focused on everything that's been going on lately, I haven't taken the time to check in on him. "Are you okay?"

He brings his gaze up from the ground and my breath catches when I see those golden flecks streaked across his irises. "Yeah," he answers. "I just really don't want to leave you alone right now."

After a few seconds of contemplation, I nod. "I kind of don't want you to leave me alone either."

Relief washes over him, a smile tugging his mouth upward as I gesture for him to come inside. He follows me to my room where I put my phone and keys down on the dresser. I pull out the crumbled letter, now stained with my tears and tuck it into my top drawer. Somehow, I know I won't be able to stand having it staring back at me from wherever I am in the room.

Dylan scans the far wall, where a few of my sketches are pinned to a cork board I got at Kmart on a shopping trip with Kristen and Liv. Kristen had been so excited to help me pick out a few things to spruce up my room. A new quilt cover and throw rug, the porcelain lamp that adorns my bedside and the cork board that Dylan now stands in front of.

"Wow. You weren't kidding when you said you liked to draw. These are amazing."

"Thanks," I say, shyly.

"Have you told Kristen about Grace?"

"No," I shake my head. "I mean, she knows I've been attending her art class, but not about recent revelations. You're the only person I've told."

"You should tell her," he says. "It might help to talk to her."

"I doubt Kristen would want to mix business with family. It goes against company policy."

"That's not exactly what I meant," he says, picking up one of the sketches on my nightstand. "I don't mean for you to talk to her like she's your therapist. She's your sister. She cares about you. She would want to know."

"Yeah, maybe," I say. "She's pretty pre-occupied with organising her wedding at the moment. I kind of don't want to be a downer."

"She'd never see it like that. She'd always make time for you. You know that right?"

I shrug. "Yeah, I guess."

"She was out of her mind the day she thought she was going to lose you. You aren't alone, Kenz. You need to learn to accept help from others every once in a while."

I know that my sister cares for me. I wouldn't be living in this house if she didn't. She's given me more than any other person on the planet, and I'll always be thankful for her. I just hate this constant third wheel feeling I keep getting in her and Henley's presence.

"I'll tell her," I say. "Eventually."

He offers a small nod before moving to the other corner where the easel that Pamela gifted me stands, the blank canvas perched upon the rail. The paints are all laid out in front waiting for inspiration to strike. "What are you going to paint?"

"I don't know yet," I tell him because it's still true. My head is so full now, of thoughts, emotions, and theories. I don't know if I'll ever be able to move past this block on my creativity.

A cheeky smirk lifts one side of his mouth. "Well, I'd offer to model but I'm not sure if nudes are your thing."

Despite the day we've had, I can't help but crack a smile. His lips twitch at the sight as his eyes slice to mine.

"Thank you," I say again. "For being there for me."

He nods again, lingering on the far side of the room. "Always. I care about you, Kenz."

"I'm starting to see that," I say.

Because I am. Trust has never come easy for me. I've been burned way too many times, but Dylan's constant support has shown me that if there is one person in this world, I can count on to get me through those dark days, it's him.

I move across the room in slow strides until I'm standing in front of him. He reaches up slowly, taking my face in his hands, then he leans down to press a gentle kiss to my mouth. It's so soft, so tender, it makes my eyes water.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly when he sees me reach up and swipe at the moisture.

"Don't be," I say. "I'm not that fragile, Dylan."

"Fragile?" His forehead creases in a frown. "I know you aren't, Kenz. When I said you were the strongest person I know, I meant it. I just don't want you to think that I would ever take you for granted."

"You've already proven to me that you aren't like my ex, if that's what you're worried about." I step forward, filling the space between us, planting my hands on his chest. "I know exactly what kind of guy you are."

"You do?"

"I do." I nod as his eyes search mine. "You're the kind of guy that will stick up for a lowly barmaid when his parents call her a gold-digger."

A soft laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating the hard, toned muscle beneath my fingers.

"The kind that will take me out for a day just to help me get my mind off things."

His hands slide to my hips as mine travel downward, my fingers twisting in his t-shirt. I move forward, forcing him to take a step backward in the direction of my bed.

"You're the guy that took me home and cared for me when you found me in the rain." My hands find the hem of his shirt, creeping beneath the fabric, his skin hot under my palms.

Another step forward for me sends him edging further back.

"Kenz." The way he utters my name, low and breathless causes my heart to beat out of sync.

"You held me when I cried," I say, inching him back further until the backs of his knees are flush with the mattress. A gentle shove has him sitting on the bed in front of me. His arms curl around my thighs.

"You made me pancakes," I whisper.

I'm suddenly acutely aware of how wrong I had it. The way I feel in Dylan's presence is nothing like the way I'd felt with Ethan in the beginning.

Not even close.

I push away the thought of him, ashamed to have let him take up space in my head in this moment that is meant for only us. Dylan and I alone.

How could I have been so completely mistaken?

He looks up at me with those whiskey eyes. The eyes that have seen me the way nobody else ever has.

"I did," he agrees.

"I trust you." I lean down, crushing my lips against his, my fingers gliding up from the back of his neck into his hair.

He kisses me back, slowly but with intention, then I climb into his lap, pressing my body against him. I shiver when his hands trail up my back, finding their way underneath my shirt.

I've never wanted to be this close to someone. Never needed to be this close to someone, but it's time I admitted what I've been denying all along.

Dylan has my heart.

He strokes my hair, nuzzling into my neck, his breath hot on my skin. Then when he falls back onto the mattress, pulling me with him, I melt.

And this time neither one of us pulls away.